Summer of '65
by RedDahlias
Summary: 1965, a year loosely based on sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. Arthur Kirkland certainly knew it, but his own personal case consisted of revenge, slander and possibly getting the girl. (A little story I came up with. I am infatuated with the 60's and I wanted to see how far I could go with this. Please enjoy!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ah, 1965, the year that was loosely based on sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. Or in Arthur Kirkland's case, revenge, slander and playing a mean Wilkinson. Yes, a Wilkinson, the brand of his precious cherry red, electric guitar. Just a little something his daddy gave him to show off to his rival when he arrived in the States. Spoiled rich boy Arthur, going to the States? As absurd as it seems, the very thought ties in well with the situations he experienced during the crazy spring of '65.

'That damn Antonio Carriedo.' He cursed, stepping off the plane and onto American soil.

He glanced around the rather bright and eccentric looking airport, looking for the tall Spaniard. It seemed as if his surroundings were too cheery for his taste, because he glowered at the sight of a baby blue bench. He walked over to it and sat down in a prim manner, laying his guitar case on his lap. He waited about fifteen minutes, huffing a bit and adjusting the woven, flax scarf he had wrapped around his neck. Honestly, the weather in California was much warmer than it was in England. Despite the heat he was unaccustomed to, he didn't bother to take his scarf off. He was finally reduced to leaning over his guitar case, panting for fresh air.

"Ah, you were always the stubborn one Arthur."

Arthur's ears perked up at the sound of Antonio's accented voice.

"Stubborn? How so?" Arthur shot back, turning his rather irritated gaze to his Spanish rival.

"Well for starters, you haven't taken your scarf or coat off, despite being in eighty degree weather, and you're afraid of putting your case down because it might get dirty." Antonio smirked, uttering the last four words with a prissy and girly tone of voice.

The Englishman finally stood up, the handle of his guitar case tucked firmly into the tight hold of his pale fingers. He brushed his scarf back with his free hand and glowered at the smug man in front of him.

"So much for a decent welcome."

"Oh, I'm sorry Arthur, welcome to America! Land of the free home of the brave, ya' know? Now that the introduction you couldn't care less about is over, let's get our asses into gear and head home. Maria and Alfred are waiting for us!"

Antonio face seemed to light up when he mentioned Maria's name, though Arthur couldn't tell why. Grabbing Arthur's many suitcases from the designated revolving belt; Antonio threw them all in the trunk. Ignoring Arthur's complaints about his luggage being 'genuine leather' he made the Brit sit in the back and with a small chuckle, he drove to his own house.

"Maria, I'm back!" Antonio sang out, bursting through the door with the annoyed Englishman trailing behind him.

As soon as Arthur looked at the Mexican woman in front of him, he knew why Antonio seemed so excited in getting back home. Clad in black, plaid leggings with an oversized turtleneck sweater, she looked absolutely lovely. Her dark brown hair was styled with a fringe and decorated with a matching black headband, certainly a popular hairstyle back in England. He looked back at Antonio and analyzed the lovesick look on his face, wondering what she was to him. He certainly found out later that night, when he just so happened to overhear Antonio's loud groans and Maria's sharp whispers warning him to keep quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Arthur held his coffee cup close, sipping the dark substance with care. He couldn't help but remember the noises he heard last night. Certainly lewd and vulgar is what he thought of them to be. But, there was something mesmerizing about Maria's; they were so delicate and feminine. It was if they came naturally to her. Now, Arthur was the type of man to analyze his surroundings, especially the ones he was unaccustomed to. Her quiet moans were so deliciously tempting; he held the mug tighter just by thinking about them. Sure, he just met the woman and he hadn't even spoken to her, but lust can come blind and quick.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

Arthur turned to the voice's owner. Standing and facing away from him, grasping a mug from the sink was Maria. She certainly had no shame, dressed in her baggy, two piece pajama set. Why, she didn't even bother to put on a robe! Arthur studied the dark cotton design, it looked rather masculine… by God, and they were Antonio's!

"Yes." He replied sheepishly, lifting the mug to his lips.

"So Tony told me you're here because of some concert happening in a couple weeks."

He nodded.

"So, what's your talent? Sing, play an instrument?"

She seemed so intimidating, and she was only having a casual conversation with him!

"I actually dabble in a bit of both… playing the electric guitar is my passion though."

"Ah, Tony can only play the acoustic. Well, I'm glad you're participating. Fresh meat."

She smiled rather maliciously as she poured herself a cup of fresh coffee.

"And what do you do?" he felt a bit daring.

"I sing. I can't play an instrument, but I'd like to think of my voice as one."

"How poetic. Do you compose your own songs?"

"Yes and no. I have some of my friends help me, and I sometimes help my friends. Nothing more to it."

She liked her information given short, sweet and to the point. He'd had to make a mental note of that later. She sat across from him at the small table, the handle of the mug clasped in the grasp of her slender fingers. As Arthur looked around, he wondered why Antonio decided to move to America. The two bedroom house was certainly a downgrade from what he used to live in back in Seville. It was large by American standards, but it seemed rather crowded and unpretentious in Arthur's opinion. Though it truly stuck to the trends of the era, it really didn't impress Arthur.

"Will you be practicing with Antonio for the concert, or are you going to do something solo?"

Her voice broke him out of his trance and he looked over at the curious beauty across from him.

"I actually planned something myself."

"Good, knowing the relationship between you two, I think it's for the best."

He nodded in agreement. He watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as she downed her mug of the strong brew and excused herself from the table. She muttered something about someone named Jose always being fashionably late to their meetings as she got up and then scurried off the her bedroom to change.

'Well, she has no interest in me.' He thought but mentally kicked himself for ever thinking that.

As much as he resented Antonio, he was a guest in his house, he shouldn't even think about his girlfriend in such a way. At least he'd have practice to clear his mind, if that would help at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Arthur was busy tuning his guitar. Antonio had left to go practice with a few friends and Maria was busy in the basement practicing her song with her friend Jose. The funny thing was he had two first names- both the same. Jose Jose as he called himself. It struck Arthur as a funny name, but he shrugged it off. Arthur finally grew bored of tuning his guitar and he didn't really feel like practicing for the concert. Lethargically, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket. It was all so quiet now that Antonio and Maria weren't there to talk to him. The only noise was the soft sound of a pre-recorded beat that played in the basement. That's where Antonio had set up his crude recording studio. Ignoring the apple he ambled down the stairs and stopped at the door. He leaned in and listened to the bouncy beat before Maria broke into song.

"Confundí tu piel de nácar con la mañana…"

It was in Spanish, of course. Arthur could only make out a few words here and there, the reason being because he was forced to make friends with Antonio when they were mere children. He silently thanked the Gods for the indirect good fortune.

"Confundí tus ojos verdes con agua clara…"

Green eyes? Clear wáter… was she talking about him? She thought his eyes were like clear water? He couldn't help but feel his cheeks burn a red hue. It was all so poetic and lovely… her voice. He was in love with her voice.

"Tu cabello con la noche…"

Hair like the night? Now he was unsure if she was talking about him.

"Y tu cuerpo con mi almohada…"

Now he was positive she wasn't talking about him. Confused your body with my pillow? She wasn't talking about him, she was talking about Antonio. Of course! He felt so stupid. As lovely as her voice sounded, it pained him to hear her sing about his rival in such a way. He lazily climbed the stairs and slumped back on the couch. Oh well, she was his, what was Arthur going to do about it. After about fifteen minutes of sulking, he sat up. He just remembered, he was 'Arthur Bloody Kirkland'. He could get any girl he wanted, even if he had to steal her from someone else. He set his mind to courting her, even if it was in the most indirect and discreet manner. Or, he could just depend on Antonio to fuck up yet another relationship of his. Either way would work fine for him. He stopped his boyish sulking and got up. He smoothed his white dress shirt and black slacks, and whistled 'She Loves You' by the Beatles. He couldn't deny the fact that the Beatles were going to be big, in England and especially in the United States. American fan-girls really did take their love for an idol to a rather extreme extent, then again, any girl would. Sauntering out into the bright sunshine, he wandered into the quaint little marketplace that was bustling with life. Colorful shops adorned the streets and laughter filled the air. He patted the bulge in his pocket that was his wallet, assuring himself he could buy whatever he wanted. He wandered into a small boutique, not really minding that it was for women; he had to run errands for his mother back in London, so he was used to it. After looking at the clothing and merchandise for sale, he left and wandered into another store. This store just so happened to sell pearl strands, quite the popular object among the woman of fashion. He gently slid it off its prop and fingered them, turning them this way and that to observe them.

"Perfect."

He immediately bought them. Once he arrived home, he still found Maria downstairs. A smile crept his features, and he set the pearls on the counter. He waited patiently, going back to tuning his guitar. Maria had then finished recording, and her friend with the two names had left. She then walked into the kitchen and looked at the pleasant gift on the counter. At that moment, as if God himself had sent him bad luck, Antonio burst into the room.

A squeal of delight escaped Maria's lips and she rushed over to the clueless Spaniard, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering him with kisses.

"Thank you, darling!" she cooed, placing a passionate kiss upon his lips.

"For what exactly?"

She held up with the string of pearls tenderly, smiling softly at him. Now, Antonio had just pleased his girl, even if he didn't know what the fuck was going on. He wasn't going to turn back and tell the truth. He wrapped his arms around her petite waist and kissed her temple.

"You're welcome, cariño."

Arthur had witnessed the entire thing, and he waited for them to leave the room before he stormed out onto the front yard and wreaked havoc upon the neighbor's unsuspecting plants.

"Bloody fucking hell!"


End file.
